


When will I stop dreaming of you?

by jena



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jena/pseuds/jena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i got hit right in the striderfeels and drew a thing and then wrote a thing to go with the drawing, it's my first fic or drabble or whatever it is. point is, i tried. hope it makes you as sad as it made me. not gonna lie the stridercest is only implied.</p><p>"You go to bed knowing what will make you wake up and yet it's a painful surprise every night."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When will I stop dreaming of you?

You wake up trembling and bathed in cold sweat. It was the same dream that has been plaguing your sleep for months. Sometimes it is a bit different but the main setting is always the same, just like your reaction. You can't get used to it, every time you jump up with a yelp, eyes widened in fear and shock.  
It's a shock every time. You go to bed knowing what will make you wake up and yet it's a painful surprise every night. You wake up with your heart pounding and your breath hitching, so close to crying. You would never cry. That's not something you do. You are strong and you will get over this. And yet, you can't deny the silent tears filling your eyes. It's just from rubbing your eyes, you tell yourself.  
You are not sad, not hurt. Although, he probably was. He hasn't been alone and it makes it worse to know that you have been there and yet you haven't. It was another you, another you's eyes that saw it happen, another one's hands that held the sword as they fought an enemy they could not beat.  
Your brother was not alone but you are. Right now, you are very alone. Alone in this room, alone with your thoughts, alone with the pain. Sometimes it's good to be alone. No one would understand and you don't want to bother them, they have own problems to get over, not too different from yours though, if you are honest. Still, you don't want to show any weakness. They don't have to know how much this makes you suffer, how much you loved him. Love? No. You didn't love him. Or at least that's what you told them. You're not sure if it's true, you wish it was. If you hadn't loved him you wouldn't be bothered by these dreams, dreams of blood and swords, dreams that occur whenever you fail to reach a dream bubble filled with dead friends. Oh well, you guess these aren't that enjoyable either. More dead people. You are just so tired of dead friends.  
It was hard enough to get used to seeing your own dead body piled up on a bunch of others. You had to take care of so many Dave's, it's not even a big deal any more. Ok, it kinda is. It's still strange to drag your own bleeding body somewhere to dispose of it, hide it, burn it, throw it down. All to keep your friends from having to see it. You don't want them to get worried. As stated earlier, they have enough problems already. You don't need to add to that pile. You're glad the Dead Dave Business closed its doors as you left LOHAC. All you have to take care of now is that they won't see your current body dead but that's unlikely to happen, with all these new powers of yours.  
You wish you would have had them back then, wish it had been you that fought on his side. That fluttery asshole did such a poor job at protecting your brother. Protecting him? Wasn't it supposed to be the other way round? He was your guardian, your older brother. Was he more? That would explain why it hurts so much, explain the dreams.  
You don't want to think of it, don't want to know what exactly it was you felt for him, but you are sure it was more than hero worship. Yes, he was your hero, he raised you and taught you everything you know, the things no school could teach. You were trying to be like him but you failed miserably. Every sword you touched in the last years became crap, your sense of humor and coolness turned out to be a shitty misinterpretation of what he tried to teach you. You fucked up so badly when all you wanted was to make him proud. You don't see the point in trying any more, he's not there to see it. You won't see his lopsided smile, won't see him give you a thumb up, beaming with pride.  
You have lost yourself in misconceptions and all you have left are dreams of him. Dreams in which he is alive. Close to you, so close you can touch him, so close he can touch you. And sometimes he does but you don't want to think of these dreams. They make your insides burn with shame and guilt.  
In any way, they always end in the same way. Something rips the setting, one moment he is in the kitchen, talking about daily things, his work, games etc., the next the scene breaks and he is lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, a sword through his chest, just like you found him three years ago. And every time, every fucking time, it rips your heart apart, steals the breath from your lungs and burns in your eyes and throat. And it's your fault. It is your own god damn fault that you weren't at his side when it was important. You should have been there, fought with him and if necessary, died with him. Right there and together.  
  
Your vision blurs and the faint shadows and shapes of the room disappear into the black of the night and hot tears run down your cheeks as you fall back into restless sleep.  
  
Nothing will change.


End file.
